SB    2bD    Sbfl 


GIFT  OF 
Class   of  1887 


THE  BUTTERFLY 
TREES 


LUCIA  SHEPARDSON 


SAN  FRANCISCO 

THE  JAMES  H.  BARRY  COMPANY 

1914 


7  f*  V 


COPYRIGHT',  -1914, 

:  •  •       BY 

fA    SKEPARDSON. 


Photo  by  A.   C.  Warner 

THE  ROAD  TO  THE  BUTTERFLY  TREES 


The  Butterfly  Trees 

For  several  reasons  is  the 
Monterey  peninsula  famed 
among  the  folk  who  have  come 
to  California  for  a  time  and  re- 
turned to  their  own  land.  There 
is  beauty  of  scenery,  there  is 
evenness  of  climate,  to  charm 
the  wayfarer  and  cause  him  to 
remember.  And  more  of  the 
vanishing  Spanish  element  may 
yet  be  found  in  old  Monterey, 
with  its  adobes  and  its  legends, 
than  anywhere  else  the  length 
of  the  long  State.  But  for  a 
fourth  good  reason,  and  the  one 
least  known,  does  it  stand  alone 

8450646 


of  the  places  of  the  Pacific 
coast.  To  it  each  autumn  comes 
a  pilgrimage,  the  members  of 
which  number  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  pilgrims,  drawn  hither 
to  seek  shelter  from  the  cold 
and  the  frost  of  winter,  which 
to  them  would  mean  death. 
They  are  not  men,  they  are  not 
beasts,  nor  are  they  birds,  these 
travellers  of  long  distances. 
They  are  butterflies. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing things  to  be  seen  the  world 
over,  this  vast  annual  gathering 
of  these  fragile  creatures.  In- 
deed, it  is  almost  an  incredible 
thing,  unless  one  has  with  one's 
own  eyes  beheld  it.  It  is  not 
only  this  vicinity  to  which  they 
come,  but  one  especial  group  of 


trees.  What  instinct  brings 
them  here,  year  after  year,  the 
descendants  each  season  of  those 
who  came  the  previous  fall,  no 
man,  not  even  the  wisest  of  the 
scientists,  can  say.  About  three 
miles  from  the  historic  town 
which  was  the  first  capital  of 
California,  upon  the  souther- 
most  corner  of  that  blue  cres- 
cent so  often  likened  to  Naples, 
lies  another  town,  called  Pa- 
cific Grove,  the  second  half  of 
the  name  derived  from  the 
splendid  forests  of  Pinus  Insig- 
nis  which  cover  the  entire  pen- 
insula. There  is  a  lighthouse 
out  beyond  the  village,  and  the 
road  to  it  is  lined  on  either  side 
with  unusually  beautiful  pines. 
It  is  upon  a  certain  group  of 


these  trees,  beside  this  road,  that 
the  butterflies  live  all  winter. 

They  are  uniformly  of  the 
same  species,  and  will  readily 
be  recognized  as  the  Monarch, 
or  Anosia  plexippus.  Very 
striking  are  their  wide  reddish- 
brown  wings,  with  the  broad 
black  borders  and  the  two  rows 
of  white  spots  along  the  outer 
edges.  During  the  months  be- 
tween mid-autumn  and  mid- 
spring,  countless  numbers  of 
them  flit  all  day  about  the  flow- 
ers of  the  gardens  of  the  town, 
but  the  air  is  so  warm  and  but- 
terflies seem  such  natural  com- 
plements of  plants  in  bloom, 
that  at  first  a  person  does  not 
particularly  notice  them.  After 
a  time,  however,  it  is  realized 


Photo   Copyright  1914  by  A.    C.   Warner 

BUTTERFLIES    ON    A    PINE    BOUGH 


that  this  is  winter,  and  that  but- 
terflies are  not  supposed  to  be 
abroad  in  winter.  Then  it  is 
that  the  marvel  of  it  dawns 
upon  the  beholder,  and  his  keen 
interest  is  very  certain  to  be 
aroused.  He  will  in  all  likeli- 
hood spend  pleasant  days  in  ob- 
serving the  Monarchs  and  be- 
coming acquainted  with  their 
habits, — for  they  do  have  hab- 
its, very  firm  and  fixed  ones,  as 
will  later  be  seen. 

Although  they  alight  on 
every  plant  and  shrub  and  tree 
that  blossoms  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, the  nearer  the  observer 
comes  to  their  own  home  trees, 
the  greater  their  numbers,  until 
a  group  of  pines  is  seen,  the 
branches  of  which  are  literally 


covered  with  the  insects.  This 
is  their  chosen  abiding  place, 
and  has  been,  past  the  memory 
of  man.  They  hang  in  masses 
from  the  boughs,  thousands 
upon  thousands.  They  are  ab- 
solutely countless,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  needle-clad 
branches  is  transformed  into 
the  semblance  of  thickly-leafed 
growth,  with  all  the  leaves 
turned  brown.  On  a  dark  and 
cloudy  day,  when  the  citizens 
of  this  remarkable  colony  are 
at  rest,  it  is  not  too  easy  a  mat- 
ter for  a  stranger  to  find  them, 
since  they  then  hang  motion- 
less, with  the  bright  side  of 
their  wings  folded  inward  and 
the  dull  tawny  side  outward, 
forming  little  or  no  contrast 

10 


with  the  brown  bark  of  the 
trees  and  melting  in  with  the 
dull  green  of  the  needles,  a 
marked  instance  of  protective 
coloring.  They  do  not  seem  to 
care  for  oaks  at  all,  although 
there  are  many  large  specimens 
near  by.  It  may  be  that  there 
is  something  about  this  particu- 
lar species  of  pine  which  at- 
tracts them;  it  is  found  no- 
where else  on  the  coast,  or  in 
fact,  in  the  whole  world.  Or  it 
might  be  possible  that  the  com- 
bination of  pines,  sheltered 
climate,  and  perennial  flowers 
influenced  them  long  ago  to 
winter  at  this  place;  although 
they  first  were  known  here  years 
before  the  town  of  Pacific 
Grove  was  founded  and  gar- 

11 


dens  were  cultivated,  the  sand 
verbenas  and  lilacs  and  other 
wild  things  native  to  this  region 
have  been  blossoming  as  long 
as  the  pines  have  been  growing. 
They  arrive  in  October,  us- 
ually about  the  second  week, 
and  they  remain  until  March, 
as  regularly,  as  surely,  as  the 
seasons  change.  The  earliest 
authentic  information  as  to  this 
annual  migration  dates  back 
fifty  years,  when  the  Monarchs 
were  seen  upon  the  pines  just 
as  they  are  to-day.  Previous  to 
that,  no  mention  has  been  found 
of  this  interesting  phenomenon, 
for  such  it  may  truly  be  called. 
The  early  Spanish  chronicles 
and  traditions  make  no  men- 
tion of  it,  although  Monterey, 

12 


a  scant  three  miles  distant,  was 
gay  with  life  when  the  last  cen- 
tury came  in;  but  it  is  easy  to 
understand  how  the  caballeros, 
riding  at  top  speed,  as  they  us- 
ually did  on  their  occasional 
jaunts  through  the  woods,  did 
not  glimpse  the  butterfly  trees. 
Many  a  person  on  foot,  and 
searching  particularly  for  them, 
has  missed  them  too.  Also, 
many  a  person  has  missed  them 
without  ever  dreaming  of  that 
which  he  unwittingly  was  pass- 
ing by.  For  it  is  a  curious  fact 
that  this  wonder  is,  and  has  al- 
ways been,  comparatively  little 
known.  The  early  voyagers 
and  scientists,  thoroughly  as 
many  of  them  explored  this  re- 
gion, and  keen  though  their 

13 


eyes  must  have  been  to  discover 
all  the  things  they  did,  make 
no  mention  of  it  in  any  place 
among  their  various  writings,— 
even  David  Douglas,  the  world- 
famed  botanist,  and  the  keenest- 
eyed  of  all  the  strangers  who 
came  here,  is  silent  regarding  it. 
Yet  it  is  easy  to  understand, 
after  all,  for  unless  one  knows 
exactly  what  to  look  for,  such 
as  the  appearance  of  the  insects 
when  at  rest  upon  the  branches, 
and  the  precise  location  of  the 
trees,  it  is  next  to  impossible  to 
find  them.  And  there  was  no 
one  then  to  point  them  out  to 
comers  from  far  lands. 

One  summer,  two  or  three 
seasons  ago,  an  unusual  amount 
of  interest  was  for  some  reason 


14 


manifested  in  this  phenomenon, 
and  the  following  autumn, 
when  the  pines  on  the  light- 
house road  became  brown  with 
the  small  tourists,  for  a  month 
or  more,  particularly  on  Sunday 
afternoons,  there  was  a  proces- 
sion of  sightseers  wending  their 
way  out  to  the  trees.  The  poor 
butterflies,  alas,  fared  rather 
badly  as  a  result  of  this  suddenly 
aroused  public  attention.  Many 
spectators  wished  to  see  those 
in  flight  that  were  at  rest  upon 
the  branches,  so  the  delicate 
creatures  were  pelted  with  sticks 
and  stones  and  cones  until  hun- 
dreds of  them  had  crushed  and 
broken  wings.  But  while  this 
disturbed  them  sadly,  it  did  not 
drive  them  away,  and  in  six 

15 


weeks  or  so,  when  the  interest 
in  them  slackened  a  bit,  they 
were  left  to  their  usual  quiet 
solitude. 

Of  all  living  things,  butter- 
flies, from  the  classical  to  the 
present-day  writers,  have  ever 
been  cited  as  an  epitome  of  joy- 
ous living,  and  freedom  from 
responsibility  of  any  sort.  But 
they  are  not  the  idlers  that  they 
seem,  nor  are  they  free  from  a 
systematic  scheme  of  living. 
The  Anosiae  not  only  return  to 
this  same  place  each  season,  but 
once  arrived,  they  adhere  to  a 
fixed  routine  which  has  not  va- 
ried in  observations  extending 
over  a  period  of  sixteen  years. 
It  takes  three  or  four  weeks  for 
them  to  get  settled  after  arriv- 

16 


ing.  When  they  first  come,  in 
October,  seemingly  not  in  the 
least  fatigued  by  their  travels, 
they  appear  transported  with 
joy  at  having  attained  their  des- 
tination. They  flutter  madly 
about  in  the  warm  sunshine  in 
twos  and  threes  or  larger 
groups,  playing  like  birds  in 
their  flight.  Sometimes  they  as- 
cend to  a  considerable  height  in 
the  air,  in  pure  ecstasy  of  liv- 
ing, apparently.  The  best  time 
to  watch  them  is  when  they  are 
in  this  unsettled  state,  because  a 
better  idea  can  then  be  obtained 
of  their  great  numbers.  At  this 
season,  too,  they  rest  thickly 
upon  some  of  the  smaller  trees 
in  the  vicinity,  upon  the  way- 

17 


side  weeds  and  vines,  and  if  you 
approach  very  quietly  and  slow- 
ly, and  there  is  no  wind,  you 
can  hear  the  faint  rustling  of 
countless  wings,  which,  closed, 
bear  that  odd  resemblance  to 
dead  leaves.  Let  them  be  dis- 
turbed ever  so  slightly,  how- 
ever, and  the  wings  unfold,  the 
likeness  to  leaves  instantly  van- 
ishing as  they  rise  in  the  air,  the 
most  exquisite  of  bright  and 
evanescent  clouds. 

By  the  end  of  the  first  week 
in  November,  they  are  system- 
atically established  for  their 
long  stay.  No  more  are  they 
joyous  vagrants,  lighting  with 
careless  abandon  npon  any 
shrub  or  flower  that  is  near. 
They  may  now  be  seen  only 

18 


upon  the  high  boughs  of  their 
especial  pines,  and  here  they  re- 
main. Many  of  them  go  forth 
in  search  of  honey  each  day, 
but  they  do  not  leave  their  rest- 
ing place  in  swarms,  and  as  has 
been  said,  they  are  not  apt  to 
attract  the  attention  as  they  skim 
over  the  gardens  unless  the  time 
of  year  is  recalled.  By  far  the 
greater  majority  are  always  on 
their  trees, — it  would  almost 
seem  that  they  take  turns  in 
procuring  food.  Those  which 
are  abroad  do  not  linger  away 
at  nightfall,  but  return  when 
the  day  is  done,  like  homing 
birds.  It  is  a  pretty  sight,  just 
before  sunset,  a  brown  butterfly 
here,  and  there  another,  and 
yonder  yet  others,  some  of  them 

19 


loitering  for  a  last  taste  of 
honey,  but  not  for  long,  as  they 
wend  their  way  on  their  slight 
wings  out  toward  Point  Pinos 
and  the  place  they  love.  Some- 
times on  very  warm  days,  when 
goodly  numbers  of  them  have 
been  honey-seeking  and  about 
four  or  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon have  just  returned  for  the 
night,  they  do  not  fold  their 
wings  at  once  in  rest,  but  flit 
about  like  birds  from  bough  to 
bough,  picking  a  likely  twig  or 
pine  needle  whereon  to  sleep, 
and  the  late  stun,  slanting 
through  the  forest,  glints  upon 
their  red-brown  surfaces  until 
the  branches  are  ruddy  with 
warm  and  pulsing  color.  They 
are  beautiful  always  to  look 

20 


upon,  these  dainty  creatures,  but 
this  is  the  time  of  all  the  day, 
I  think,  when  they  are  quite 
most  lovely. 

They  are  very  hardy,  few 
which  have  died  being  found 
underneath  the  trees  at  any 
time.  They  are  not  affected  by 
the  occasional  light  frosts  of  the 
vicinity,  nor  are  they  harmed 
by  storms;  during  inclement 
weather  they  move  from  the 
tips  of  the  limbs  close  up  to  the 
mossy  trunks,  where  they  re- 
main in  perfect  safety.  None 
of  them  venture  forth  when  it 
is  raining,  which  tends  to  prove 
that  they  are  able  to  do  without 
sustenance  for  some  little  time. 
One  of  the  most  severe  storms 
ever  kncrwn  on  the  coast  oc- 

21 


curred  this  winter,  when  for 
three  weeks  there  was  not  a 
sunny  day,  and  most  of  this  pe- 
riod it  rained  incessantly.  Small 
opportunity  was  there  for  the 
Monarchs  to  gather  honey.  It 
would  be  a  natural  supposition 
that  many  of  them  perished 
from  exposure  and  hunger,  but 
such  was  far  from  the  case.  Not 
a  dead  butterfly  was  seen,  and 
when  the  sun  shone  forth  at  last, 
how  they  spread  their  tiny  pin- 
ions in  happy  flight,  almost  as 
excited  as  when  they  first  ar- 
rived in  October.  They  flocked 
to  the  warm  grass,  they  thronged 
the  blossoming  pine  boughs  ev- 
erywhere, they  settled  in  clouds 
upon  acacia  trees  feathery  with 

22 


bloom.     Little  cared  they  for 
the  storms  that  were  past. 

They  are  undisturbed  by  the 
travel  on  the  nearby  road,  not 
even  by  the  countless  automo- 
biles which  roll  along  the  neigh- 
boring boulevard.  Only  once 
have  they  taken  exception  to 
any  disturbing  factor,  and  this 
was  when  some  heavy  blasting 
was  being  done  during  the  win- 
ter months  on  the  road  near 
their  trees.  Then,  indeed,  were 
they  aroused.  They  straight- 
way took  their  departure,  and 
quite  disappeared  from  their 
winter  home  and  from  the  en- 
tire peninsula.  There  is  no 
means  of  knowing  where  they 
then  sought  shelter,  but  most  of 
them  must  have  perished,  wher- 

23 


ever  they  were,  since  very  few 
were  seen  in  their  accustomed 
haunts  the  following  winter. 
Two  years  later,  however,  they 
appeared  in  much  the  same 
swarms  as  before. 

They  are  unmolested  by  birds 
of  any  sort,  even  the  alert  and 
rapacious  jays,  with  which  these 
woods  abound,  letting  them  se- 
verely alone.  This  is  because 
they  are  what  are  known  as  pro- 
tected insects.  The  entire  genus 
Anosia,  of  which  there  are  the 
two  species,  Anosia  plexippus 
and  Anosia  berenice,  belong  in 
this  category;  owing  to  the 
character  of  the  plants  upon 
which  the  larvae  feed,  they  are 
provided  with  secretions  which 
render  them  distasteful  to  possi- 

24 


Photo  by  A.   C.  Warner 

THE    MONARCH 


ble  enemies.  The  Anosiae  are 
often  called  the  Milkweed  but- 
terflies, because  the  young  feed 
largely  upon  the  different  va- 
rieties of  milkweed. 

About  the  first  of  March  they 
begin  to  disappear.  A  few  at  a 
time,  they  vanish  from  the  pines 
and  from  the  gardens,  and  by 
the  end  of  the  month  they  are 
almost  entirely  gone.  Just  be- 
fore leaving  they  are  much 
more  wild  than  on  any  previous 
occasion ;  ordinarily  they  are  re- 
markably tame,  and  it  is  not  un- 
common for  one  to  alight  upon 
a  person  standing  among  or  near 
flowers — they  can  easily  be 
picked  up  wherever  encoun- 
tered. But  he  who  would  touch 
one  in  March  must  be  agile  in- 

25 


deed;  the  fever  of  migration  is 
upon  them.  Their  wings  are 
faded  now,  and  many  of  them 
broken,  a  sharp  contrast  to  their 
lovely  perfection  when  first  they 
come,  in  the  autumn.  This 
would  tend  to  carry  out  the  the- 
ory that  the  young  are  raised 
during  the  summer.  They  do 
not  leave  their  home  in  a  body, 
but  very  gradually  their  num- 
bers decrease;  on  the  other 
hand,  they  appear  in  the  au- 
tumn in  a  relatively  much 
shorter  space  of  time.  For 
some  reason  there  are  very  few 
butterflies  of  any  variety  in  this 
region  during  the  summer,  and 
almost  never  is  a  Monarch 
seen;  there  are  surely  flowers 
enough  to  attract  them,  but 

26 


they  seem  to  prefer  other  dis- 
tricts. 

In  all  probability,  it  is  many 
scores  of  years  since  the  Anosiae 
first  began  to  seek  this  penin- 
sula upon  the  advent  of  cold 
weather  elsewhere.  Their  an- 
nual gathering  here  confirms  a 
theory  long  held  by  entomolo- 
gists concerning  them.  Care- 
ful and  continued  study  of  their 
habits  has  led  scientists  for 
some  time  past  to  believe  that 
upon  the  advent  of  the  cold  sea- 
son they  migrate  to  warmer 
localities,  where  they  live 
throughout  the  winter  in  all  the 
glory  of  their  winged  beauty. 
It  is  well  known  that  they  do 
not  hibernate,  which  differen- 
tiates them  radically  from  the 

27 


lesser  members  of  their  kind. 
One  of  their  most  noted  char- 
acteristics, mentioned  by  nearly 
all  authorities  on  butterflies,  is 
their  tendency  at  the  end  of 
summer  to  gather  in  great 
swarms,  as  if  preparing  for  a 
long  flight.  At  such  times  they 
are  found  clinging  in  masses 
upon  low  trees  and  shrubs,  just 
as  they  cling  to  the  pines  dur- 
ing their  long  sojourn  in  the 
Monterey  woods,  but  as  yet  the 
latter  place  is  the  only  known 
spot  where  they  remain  thus 
assembled  for  any  length  of 
time,  their  gatherings  which 
have  been  observed  elsewhere 
being  only  temporary,  a  day  or 
two  in  duration  at  the  longest. 
They  fly  high  and  strongly, 

28 


Photo  by  A.   C.  Warner 

THE     BUTTERFLY    TREES 


more  like  birds  than  insects, 
and  they  are  known  to  be  great 
travelers.  It  is  presumed  that 
those  which  are  in  the  eastern 
and  middle-western  states  go  to 
the  south  during  the  cold 
weather,  while  those  which 
winter  near  Pacific  Grove  come 
from  a  large  part  of  the  coun- 
try lying  west  of  the  Rocky 
mountains.  There  is  one  place 
where  they  may  be  seen  each 
autumn  on  the  wing,  a  flight  so 
great  that  it  takes  a  day  for 
them  to  pass  a  given  point. 
This  is  in  a  pass  of  the  Siskiyou 
mountains,  about  a  hundred 
miles  west  of  the  railroad. 
Here,  in  the  latter  part  of  Sep- 
tember, a  long  stream  of  them 
travels  down  through  the  hills 

29 


from  the  north, — the  forest 
rangers  see  them  every  year. 
They  fly  a  little  below  the  tree 
tops,  a  thin  and  fluttering  band 
about  fifty  feet  wide.  Their 
progress  is  steady  and  unwaver- 
ing and  they  keep  to  an  unerr- 
ing course,  evidently  with  a 
fixed  destination  in  view.  They 
never  loiter,  or  turn  aside  to 
rest,  and  not  one  is  seen  in  the 
surrounding  woods  off  their 
line  of  flight;  there  is  some- 
thing almost  pathetic  in  the 
sight,  unusual  and  charming 
though  it  is — they  are  so  small, 
so  weak,  so  defenceless,  as  they 
traverse  the  deep  still  forest, 
one  cannot  but  wonder  what  in- 
stinct it  is  that  impels  them  to 
travel  on  such  long,  long  jour- 

30 


neys,  and  how  far  they  must  go 
before  they  may  fold  their 
wings.  This  pass  is  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles  or  more 
from  Pacific  Grove,  yet  it  is 
not  too  much  to  suppose  that 
many  of  those  that  come  to  that 
winter  resort  have  found  their 
way  there  from  the  northern 
country.  There  are  many  other 
instances  where  they  are  seen 
far  from  a  resting  place,  ac- 
counts being  frequently  found 
of  vessels,  miles  from  land, 
which  encounter  swarms  of  the 
Monarchs,  all  flying  in  one  di- 
rection, evidently  on  their  way 
to  some  particular  spot.  So  it 
is  seen  that  these  great  migra- 
tions pertain  as  much  to  their 

31 


existence  as  to  that  of  the  birds 
of  passage. 

Where  they  come  from,  we 
do  not  know,  or  whither  they 
journey  when  they  go  away, 
the  little  brown  visitors  that 
come  each  October  to  the  trees 
in  the  pine  forest  Their  an- 
nual presence  here  is  but  a 
fresh  token  to  the  wise  people  of 
this  world  that  the  ways  of 
Nature,  provident  for  her  chil- 
dren, are  past  the  understand- 
ing of  man. 


32 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JAM  2Q  1940 

O  '»icli  ^SO  «\  i\ 

|    «    A   I            g^    f<L                - 

MAP  1     1956  kH 

JAN  3  1  79/10 

* 

-^O^M 

<oOO             • 

£BJL_ 

ft  \i  w*'  *•*       : 

REC'DFEB    t-92 

V^ 

^^ 

LIBRARY  USE 

dCTl  6  195c 

-,      T7Un5*^ 

JAN  6     19S5LU 

LD  21-100m-7,'39(402s) 

Photomount 

Pamphlet 

Binder 

Gaylord  Bros.,  In^ 

Makers 
Stockton,  Calif  j 

PAT.  JAN.  21,  1S08    ; 


U.C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


840646 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


